


La Première Chanson (The First Song)

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: The Sacred Chord [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, First Time, Grace Sharing, M/M, Making Love, Sunsets, Young Lucifer, Young Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blanketed by the light of the newborn sun and surrounded by the fields of golden wheat at the edge of the Heavens, Michael and Lucifer make love for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Première Chanson (The First Song)

They’re making their way to the edge of Creation when it happens. Lucifer breaks away from him and spins off into the sunset, laughing. The sapphire-violet light scatters over the tips of his feathers and glints across his halo and bathes them both in divine radiance, and Michael reaches out for him. “Lucifer,” he whispers, reverent. _Lucifer, Light Bringer, Morning Star; beloved,_ he thinks.

 

Lucifer’s wings arch high, partially obscuring the fading light, and he rises. “Race you.” He takes flight, and Michael watches him as he flies, up and up and up until his wings brush against the edges of the World Sphere. Michael sends a tiny burst of annoyed amusement towards his brother, recalling and repeating the words of their Father – sunset is for worship – but then Lucifer calls out to him in return, something like _love, joy, light, wonder,_ and Michael is helpless but to follow, pulled in the direction of his brother’s voice as if tugged by a golden chain.

 

And then they race, wings flapping wildly against the sun-warm ambrosial air, Graces calling out to each other and they weave their way through the swaying waves of wheat at the very edge of everything. Lucifer dips and Michael tumbles after him, desperate to catch him before the sun slips below the world. “Lucifer!” He calls, Grace flaring with the jewel tones of day’s end as he flies faster.

 

Lucifer calls back to him - _catch me_ – before dipping and twisting, slowing down just enough to Michael to surge ahead and capture him.

 

They fall, laughing, into the golden fields. Lucifer tangles his wings in Michael’s, bidding him not to fly, and Michael obeys willingly, pressing into the touch and gasping as _something_ alights within him, white-hot and burning bright and spreading warmth through his being like the sun’s blue light high up in the mountains dividing this land from the others.

 

“Lucifer,” he speaks in the same tone he usually reserves for prayer. “Lucifer.” He hopes it says the things he so desperately wants to convey, hopes that Lucifer understands his words to mean things like _I love you more than anything or anyone,_ things that send a dangerous little thrill through his wings, things that defy everything their Father has ever said about _loving none above thy Creator._

 

“Michael,” Lucifer returns, breathless-sounding in the cooling air. It sounds like everything Michael had wished he could voice and more, like Lucifer is praying to him, worshipping him, _promising_ him - _I love you most and I always, always will_ – and it sends a spike of something beautiful through his Grace.

 

“ _Luce_ ,” he breathes. Luce, just Luce. _Light,_ because Lucifer is the light of his life, the sun to his World Sphere, the most beautiful thing in existence, best beloved above all other creations. _Light,_ because Lucifer shines with the light of ten-thousand newborn suns and sparkles like a million distant stars. _Light,_ because even if they didn’t have the bright-shining globe that chased the world across the sky, Michael would be content to bask in Lucifer’s glory for the rest of time.

 

Lucifer frowns and pushes into him, searching for something Michael can’t quite identify. “Mich- Mik- _Mika_ ,” he decides. “Mika.” It’s unholy, _ungodly,_ but Michael thinks that maybe that’s the point.

 

“Mika,” Michael repeats. “And Luce.”

 

Lucifer smiles, brighter than the sun and more beautiful, too. “I want...” He falters, looking away for the briefest of moments across the golden plain rustling gently in the wind. “I want to love you.”

 

Michael makes a small unhappy noise. “Don’t you already...” He pauses, tasting the blasphemy before his speaks it. “ _Love_ me, brother?”

 

Lucifer growls, frustrated at the lack of words to describe what he desires. “I want... I want... I _want._ ” He lets the barriers that keep his being separate from the sky and the grass and the trees slip away in the places where it brushes against Michael’s Grace. “I want.” He presses, and Michael gives in to him, gives himself up to him, willingly, gracefully, _lovingly._

 

Michael whimpers as he feels himself flow against Lucifer. “I... I _want,_ as well.” Something warm and soft whispers at the edge of their connection and he smiles. “I love you,” he whispers.

 

A beautiful feeling begins to unfold within them, like a flower unfurling in the sun, and Lucifer lets more of himself become one with Michael. “I need-” A jagged spike of joy sears through his being and forces him to cry out. A moment later, Michael follows, sobbing through the same too-much too-good so-right feeling.

 

“L-Luce...” _I love you; I need you; more, please, more; I can’t live without you; you’re everything to me._

 

“Mika.” _I know; I love you too; I need you more; don’t worry, I’ll give you everything you want, everything you need, anything; I’d die without you; you’re my everything._


End file.
